


Secrets We Keep

by Frances_J_Irnok



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Power Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frances_J_Irnok/pseuds/Frances_J_Irnok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after Mycroft's confrontation with a drugged-out Sherlock in His Last Vow.   There's someone waiting for him in his office who will make him feel much, much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets We Keep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaryLouLeach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryLouLeach/gifts).



“Anderson?” Mycroft huffed indignantly as he strode through the door of his private office, slamming the hefty slab of wood behind him.    
“I ask you for your top man to search the flat, and you send ‘Anderson the Unstable,’ the madman with the Sherlock fan club?!”  
  
From his comfortable position in Mycroft’s plush leather chair, Greg Lestrade pursed his lips and gave a stony look.    
  
“What exactly was I supposed to do?  You go demanding things at 8 in the bloody morning, you’ll take what you get!”  

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Mycroft warned icily.   
“Oh, you’re one to talk about tone,” Greg responded with sarcasm.  Choosing to ignore the remark, Mycroft crossed the room and shrugged out of his expensively tailored jacket.  

“You’re favoring the arm,” Greg mused.   
“Hm?” Mycroft hung the coat on its hook and turned to face the inspector, looking innocent.   
  
Barely able to contain his feeling of being pleased with himself, Greg sat forward and pointed.    
  
“The arm, the left arm.  The arm.  The one packed with titanium, remember?”  

“Never should have told you that story,” Mycroft mumbled under his breath.  At hearing this, Greg was out of the posh chair and at the other man’s side within seconds.  He pressed his chest into Mycroft’s back and whispered into his ear,   
“Oh you forget, luv, I would have seen the scars in the shower.”    
  
Mycroft swallowed dryly but didn’t say a word.  Greg turned him round gently and said,   
  
“What happened?”  

Regret in his eyes, Mycroft spoke.    
“Sherlock.  No drugs in the flat, however this time he may have gone after a predator so fearsome even I may not be able to intervene.”    
“That’s not possible though, is it?”  Greg looked incredulous.    
“Very much so, I’m afraid,” Mycroft replied softly.    
  
“But that doesn’t answer why your arm is bothering you,” Greg said, tenderness at the edges of his voice.    
Mycroft massaged his forehead with his fingertips.   
  
“In a way, it does.  Sherlock wanted to plant the seed that he’d relapsed, so he went and shot up in some drug den and John Watson pulled him out.  There were definitely no drugs in the flat, but he was high.  So when I suggested that his course of action was, to say the least, unwise, he grabbed the arm and pinned me to the wall.”    
Greg’s brown eyes turned black with anger.   
“Bastard!” He exclaimed.  He left Mycroft’s side and headed for the office door purposefully.   
“Leaving so soon?” Mycroft asked, with raised eyebrows.   
“Yeah, I’m gonna give that sodding brother of yours a piece of my mind.  He’s done some rubbish things, but hurting his own brother where he knows he’s weak-” Greg’s thoughts trailed off and all he could do was say “Bastard!” again between clenched teeth.

The two men regarded one another face to face for a moment or two when Mycroft’s gaze softened ever so slightly.    
“Your concern is…” He paused to find the right word.    
“Endearing.”  He said.    
Greg shrugged.  “It’s what a bloke like me does, when he’s in love.”  

Desperate not to show Greg how he felt like he’d swoon every time he heard those words, Mycroft strode purposefully over to Greg and kissed him forcefully.  Before Greg could respond Mycroft’s hands had snaked around his torso and pressed their bodies together.  Greg let his own hands wander across Mycroft’s back, clutching and holding him closer still.  

Minutes passed before they broke off their kisses, nearly panting for breath.  Greg let his hands slide down Mycroft’s back then clutched his buttocks firmly.   
  
“Mmm, I’m not getting back to the office anytime soon, am I?” Greg breathed into Mycroft’s ear.    
“It’s looking doubtful, indeed,” he murmured back.  Pulling away from their close embrace, Mycroft turned away from the main door of his office and moved toward a more discreet door toward the back of the room.  With the click of a mechanism the door rolled open, revealing a small, modest living space hidden beyond the walls of his office.  In earlier, lonelier days, Mycroft had often relied upon this hideaway as a place to sneak in a bit of rest without having to leave the office.  Memories of solitary nights on the simple double bed were erased, however, once Greg Lestrade entered his life.  In their place now were memories of rough, passionate sex, hands and tongues and teeth everywhere.  

Greg grinned like a sly fox who’d triumphantly secured his prey.  Together they entered the small side room and slid the door panel shut behind them, ensuring no one would interrupt their privacy.  

Once they were locked away alone, Greg’s eyes grew even more predatory.  Biting his lip as he looked Mycroft up and down, he said, “Do I have to be careful of the arm, luv?”    
  
“Only just,” Mycroft replied, smiling like a man who knew exactly what he was in for.  With permission given, Greg leapt forward and sank his teeth into Mycroft’s pale, aristocratic neck, sucking and licking aggressively.    
Mycroft howled with pleasure and Greg inserted two fingers into his mouth.    
“Can’t have them hearing us now can we?”  the detective asked.  Mycroft shook his head no and Greg removed his fingers.    
“No one has ever made me feel this way,” Mycroft sighed once Greg was focused again on licking and sucking at his pale neck.  He raked his teeth against the sensitive flesh and pulled away to look into Mycroft’s eyes.  With an expression full of suggestive mischief, Greg responded.   
“I have to make certain I keep you, now don’t I?”   
With that, Mycroft grabbed one of Greg’s wrists, pulling him to the bed.    
“Who is to decide,” Mycroft said, his voice low and full of threat, “Which of us is the kept and which of us is the keeper?”    
Greg’s eyes flashed and he pushed Mycroft down onto the bed.  Mycroft sat up in protest and Greg straddled his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, to pin him in place.  Greg unbuttoned Mycroft’s waistcoat and shirt in this position, smiling triumphantly at his lover trapped beneath him.  

As Mycroft allowed his shirts to be removed, he snaked his hands around to Greg’s behind, massaging his firm buttocks and raking his fingertips up and down the inspector’s back.  Greg rewarded Mycroft by grinding his hips, increasing the friction on the already bulging area of his bespoke trousers.  Mycroft’s head lolled back and he moaned, wanton.  

  
Hearing and feeling Mycroft so pliable beneath him caused Greg to nearly growl in triumph.   
“Hah!  Giving in so soon?  Not going to fight me?”  He taunted the man beneath him.  Mycroft’s face grew stony and he reached up, placing a firm hand on Greg’s throat.   
“I will allow you to have me this time,” he threatened, “But next time it will not be so easy.  I will undo you.  I will make you beg me to cease and beg me for more with the same breath. Am I understood?”

  
Unable to utter a word, Greg could only give the slightest nod, but there was still fire in his eyes.  Satisfied, Mycroft released his grasp and let himself abandon control.  It was a beautiful feeling, giving up control, he realized as Greg began licking and nipping at his bared chest, made all the more satisfying by the knowledge that it was never easy between them, he and Greg Lestrade.  Their lovemaking was often a battle of wills and, sometimes, brute strength. A deep, abiding thread of mutual love and respect was woven into the safety net which allowed them to explore rougher passions in the bedroom.    
  
Greg dismounted from Mycroft’s lap, rising to his feet and pulling Mycroft up with him.  

Mycroft gave Greg an embrace that was full of mock tenderness, his face nuzzling the man’s neck.

“Incidentally,” he began, a hint of threat in his voice, “Do not _ever_ put your feet on that desk again.  That desk is worth more than a year’s pay for someone in your position, _detective inspector_.”

“What makes you so certain I had my feet on the desk?”  Greg’s face was a mask of innocence but on the inside, he was thinking to himself, “ _Dammit, how can he always tell_?”

“The desk is positioned so as to be perfectly perpendicular to the Persian rug.  The left corner of the desk was off by approximately 9 centimeters.”

In response to Mycroft’s look of cold superiority, all Greg could do was scowl.

“Nine centimeters?  Obviously I’m not doing a good enough job when I get you alone.  You should scarcely know your name when I’m done with you, much less how many centimeters I’ve moved your bloody desk.”

 

“So it was you!” Mycroft said triumphantly.

Growing impatient, Greg spoke.  “Why don’t you do something more attractive with those lips than scowling?” He pressed down on Mycroft’s shoulders meaningfully.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow sardonically and obediently went down onto his knees.  Greg unzipped his trousers and withdrew his cock.  Mycroft licked his lips hungrily before taking the length of him into his mouth. Greg groaned low in his throat and his hands went to the back of Mycroft’s head encouragingly.  Mycroft curled his tongue and alternated licking and sucking, having learned over time just what made Greg tick.  He withdrew and feigned a bored look, daring Greg to act.  Greg laced his fingers into Mycroft’s ginger hair before twisting and pulling roughly, forcing Mycroft’s head back down onto his cock, making him take the full length.  Mycroft’s eyes watered as Greg’s cock slipped into his throat and he grew unable to breathe.  Greg gave a series of rough thrusts, reveling in the sensation of being buried deep inside Mycroft’s tight throat.  When he knew he could make Mycroft take no more, he yanked at the back of Mycroft’s hair, pulling him off his cock roughly.  Eyes watering and mouth trailing saliva, Mycroft looked wanton and used, exactly the way Greg liked him.

“You’ll be staying on your knees as I undress,” Greg instructed him.  All Mycroft could do was wipe at his eyes and mouth while nodding obediently.

Greg undressed himself slowly, knowing that Mycroft’s knees were growing wearier by the minute.   At any sign of Mycroft wincing in pain or shifting, Greg would refasten a button and make him wait even longer.

When Greg’s torturously long striptease was finally over, he strode confidently to the bed, stark naked and sitting down on the edge with his legs spread brazenly.

“Come over here and take care of this,” Greg ordered, pointing to his rigid member.  Mycroft made motions to stand up but before he could, Greg barked, “On your knees!”

Obediently, Mycroft shuffled across the carpet, not daring to show any sign of pain or discomfort as the rough fibers stabbed at his aching legs.  Once he was in position between Lestrade’s spread legs, his face was once more shoved into the inspector’s crotch.  Mycroft knew what was expected of him.  He massaged Greg’s balls with his tongue, licking and teasing and covering him in saliva.  Once he felt the tiniest of muscle twitches and a hitch in Greg’s breath, he pushed further and his tongue snaked a path toward the hot hole hidden beneath.  

Greg reclined and drew up one of his legs, exposing himself completely to Mycroft.  

Obligingly, Mycroft allowed his tongue to delve deeper, lapping at the puckered folds of skin that were now exposed, daring to slide the tip of his tongue inside from time to time,  savoring the breathy whine that barely escaped Greg’s lips.    
  
A shuddering breath, and Greg said, “Now.  Get up now, I can’t wait any longer.”  Mycroft obliged, still deeply aroused and yet grateful to be allowed off of his knees.  He retrieved the lubricant from it’s usual place and went to hand it to Greg.   
“No,” he said, kneeling on the bed. “You’re gonna do it.  Better make sure you do a good job, otherwise you’ll have a hard time sitting for the parliamentary meeting this afternoon.”   
Mycroft flushed at the threat.  There were times when it was jarring for one or the other of them to mention their ‘outside’ lives when they were together privately.   It was just such an odd juxtaposition, the power and control he held the world over, and yet here, in this other world, he was carnal, another version of himself.    
  
Putting thoughts of anything but Greg out of his mind, Mycroft obediently poured lube into his hand and slicked it over his lover’s prick, darkened and stiff with need.  

“Stop,” Greg growled after a few seconds. “I came here to shag you, not get tossed off.”  
  
Raising his eyebrows and choosing not to respond to the criticism, Mycroft simply said,   
“How do you want me?”   
  
“Mm, that’s better,” Greg said. “You’re so much more fuckable when you’re obedient.  Get on your back, I want to see you when you’re begging for it.”  
  
Mycroft got on the bed and settled in on his back, momentarily daring to give his own cock a clandestine stroke or two, just to relieve some of the tension.  Greg slapped his hand away, then laid down over Mycroft with an almost menacing look.   
“I get to decide when you get off,” he said threateningly.  But once he was so close to Mycroft’s face, its every line, its every curve, he couldn’t help but kiss him passionately, deeply, strengthening that thread of love that underpinned all their fervor.  Their tongues entwined, their teeth bumped, lips grew raw and bruised, but they needed this.  Both of them, Greg suffering through a loveless marriage for so long and Mycroft putting the needs of the many before his own: they kissed as though it was their only means for getting oxygen.    
  
Finally, they breathlessly pulled away from one another and not another word was needed.  Mycroft spread his legs and angled his hips and Greg took hold of his slick erection and guided it inside his lover.  Mycroft arched his body even further and moaned animalistically, leaving Greg to press a finger to his kiss-reddened lips.  Greg grabbed one of Mycroft’s legs and braced it against himself as he slowly, deliberately began to fuck him.  

  
There was something miraculous, Mycroft thought, about being filled completely by Greg.  His mind, a constant source of analysis, data and strategy, was thoroughly silenced when they were connected.  The whole of his expansive mind was focused on the movement, the pleasure, and the anticipation of climax.    
  
Greg continued to thrust into him, the feelings of heat and closeness, slickness and friction becoming almost too much to bear.  He was grunting through clenched teeth, finding it difficult to keep his own noises of passion silent, much less Mycroft’s.    
  
“Won’t be long now, love,” Greg panted, and Mycroft responded by shifting slightly so that he could better receive each deep, heavy thrust.    
“Touch yourself,” Greg commanded, and Mycroft obliged, nearly faint with relief as he was finally able to stroke his aching cock.  He’d barely gotten in three strokes before feeling Greg tense and go over the edge, eyes clamped shut as he filled Mycroft to the hilt.    
  
Every pulse, every quiver, every nanosecond of being filled with Greg’s release was an exquisite pleasure that soon brought Mycroft to climax.  When he came there were never sparks, or a white light, or a sensation of falling:  Just blackness and the incomparable knowledge of nothing but purest, rawest pleasure.    
  
When Mycroft returned from la petite mort, Greg was there, rakish grin back on his face, sliding gently out of him.  They collapsed atop one another and basked in the most delicious secret two people can share.  


End file.
